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Start Me Up, the newest standalone in the Man of the Month Series by #1 New York Times bestselling author J. Kenner is LIVE!

Wicked days. Sinful nights. Meet Mr. April.

A high school drop-out with only his twisted sense of humor and panty-melting good looks going for him, Nolan Wood has turned a small radio gig into a thriving career.

Now a local celebrity, Nolan never wants for female companionship. But he never gets too close. And he damn sure never lets them see the man—or the pain—behind the jokes.

Then a one-night stand changes everything.

Career-focused, goal-oriented, and buttoned-down accountant Shelby Drake isn’t the kind of woman who’d usually catch Nolan’s attention, but her soft mouth, hidden curves, and deep sensuality blow his mind. And after only one taste, he wants more.

But Shelby wants nothing more to do with him. And now the radio playboy is on a sensual mission to convince her that opposites really do attract.

Her pleasure is his passion.

**Start Me Up is part of a binge read series by New York Times, USA Today, Wall Street Journal, Publishers Weekly, and #1 International bestselling author of the million copy Stark series, J. Kenner.

Each novel in the series is a STANDALONE romance with a guaranteed HEA!

J. Kenner (aka Julie Kenner) is the New York Times, USA Today, Publishers Weekly, Wall Street Journal and #1 International bestselling author of over seventy novels, novellas and short stories in a variety of genres.

Though known primarily for her award-winning and international bestselling erotic romances (including the Stark and Most Wanted series) that have reached as high as #2 on the New York Times bestseller list, JK has been writing full time for over a decade in a variety of genres including paranormal and contemporary romance, “chicklit” suspense, urban fantasy, and paranormal mommy lit.

JK has been praised by Publishers Weekly as an author with a “flair for dialogue and eccentric characterizations” and by RT Bookclub for having “cornered the market on sinfully attractive, dominant antiheroes and the women who swoon for them.” A five time finalist for Romance Writers of America’s prestigious RITA award, JK took home the first RITA trophy awarded in the category of erotic romance in 2014 for her novel, Claim Me (book 2 of her Stark Trilogy). Her Demon Hunting Soccer Mom series (as Julie Kenner) is currently in development with AwesomenessTV/Awestruck.

Her books have sold over three million copies and are published in over twenty languages.

In her previous career as an attorney, JK worked as a clerk on the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals, and practiced primarily civil, entertainment and First Amendment litigation in Los Angeles and Irvine, California, as well as in Austin, Texas. She currently lives in Central Texas, with her husband, two daughters, and two rather spastic cats.

“All these bruises,” Smoke muses. “And not one of them caused by me.” He trails a hand up my arms and down my flat stomach. “Pity, but I still have time to leave my mark on you yet.”

My entire body stiffens. I’m as rigid as a corpse.

Smoke chuckles and I’m glad I’m facing away because his laugh is pure torture, causing his erection to vibrate against my folds which are aching for more contact.

“You will be punished, hellion. You can be sure of that.”

I look over my shoulder and meet his dark eyes which darken even further as his pupils dilate. His lingering gaze rakes me over from my feet to my breasts and back down to the space between my thighs. He licks his full bottom lip.

My stomach flips. My will to fight him off doesn’t waiver, but my body isn’t getting the message. My core clenches again. I turn back around to face the tile, digging my teeth into my lower lip until I taste my own blood.

Is that what your friends call you? I like that. Thanks for the answers.That’s an interesting question—why tonight of all nights? Well, I saw my ex tagged on Facebook with another woman, and that put me over the edge. But it’s more than that. Lately, I’ve developed a strong attraction to a good friend of mine, and that’s sort of screwing with me a bit. He’s actually temporarily living in my condo, but he’s someone I’ve known for years. I’ve always thought he was extremely handsome, but it’s complicated. He and I would not be a good match romantically. He’s not the monogamous type, or at least, he never used to be. We’re better off as friends. He was also the best friend of my ex years back, so there’s that. Having him around, though, has made me more sensitized to my sexual desires. Little things like the waft of his scent, the way he touches the small of my back when he passes by me in the kitchen…it’s like my body is on this constant state of alert. So, I was thinking if I could just—for lack of a better word—get laid, maybe I could get this feeling out of my system.—Amber

My jaw was open as I just sat there staring at the screen.

Holy shit.

I read it again.

And again.

And again.

I honestly didn’t think that Amber felt that way about me. She would always make jokes about me being good-looking, but her attraction to Rory proved that her taste wasn’t exactly conventional. Now, I really felt like shit for invading her privacy, because there was no way she would’ve been okay with confessing that to me. I never imagined any of this had to do with me. I’d assumed it was solely about Rory.

She wanted to use another man to f*ck me out of her system?

That revelation left me shocked and confused—not to mention hard as f*ck thinking about the fact that Amber wanted me.

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**No Amazon e-book preorder. Will go live on/around release day.)

Synopsis:

From New York Times bestselling author Penelope Ward, comes a new, sexy standalone novel.

Growing up, the three of us were friends.He was the nerd.I was the playboy.She was the beauty.

Deep down, I only ever wanted her. I kept it inside because Rory and I made a pact that our friend, Amber, was off-limits.

He lied.

I went off to college, and he got the girl.Amber never knew how I felt. They were together for years—before he broke her heart.

Through it all and across the miles, she and I casually stayed in touch.When my job sent me to Boston for a three-month contract position, Amber let me stay in her spare room.

Still reeling from her breakup, she’d sworn off men.One night, I opened her computer to find the shock of my life. She’d hesitantly contacted a male escort company. Afraid to date and get her heart broken again, she was looking for sex with no strings.Every emotion imaginable ran through me: protectiveness, jealousy—curiosity.Amber had chosen Gentleman Number Nine and sent him a message.She opened up to him, confessing, among other things, her physical attraction to her friend—me. But she considered me off-limits—and she thought I was a manwhore. (Ironic, considering the circumstances.)

Eventually, she set up a date to meet Gentleman Nine at a hotel.When she showed up several nights later to meet him, she was stunned to see me standing there—with an offer I hoped she wouldn’t refuse.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today, and #1 Wall Street Journal Bestselling author. She’s a seventeen-time New York Times bestseller. Her novels are published in over a dozen languages and can be found in bookstores around the world. Having grown up in Boston with five older brothers, she spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor, before switching to a more family-friendly career. She is the proud mother of a beautiful 13-year-old girl with autism and a 12-year-old boy. Penelope and her family reside in Rhode Island.

Up in Smoke, an all-new gritty standalone romance by T.M. Frazier is coming February 19th, 2018!

“All these bruises,” Smoke muses. “And not one of them caused by me.” He trails a hand up my arms and down my flat stomach. “Pity, but I still have time to leave my mark on you yet.”

My entire body stiffens. I’m as rigid as a corpse.

Smoke chuckles and I’m glad I’m facing away because his laugh is pure torture, causing his erection to vibrate against my folds which are aching for more contact.

“You will be punished, hellion. You can be sure of that.”

I look over my shoulder and meet his dark eyes which darken even further as his pupils dilate. His lingering gaze rakes me over from my feet to my breasts and back down to the space between my thighs. He licks his full bottom lip.

My stomach flips. My will to fight him off doesn’t waiver, but my body isn’t getting the message. My core clenches again. I turn back around to face the tile, digging my teeth into my lower lip until I taste my own blood.

His chest presses against my back, and his hardness pulses between my legs, rubbing against my inner thighs. He squirts some shampoo in his hand, working it into my hair. He tilts my head back and rinses my hair then slides his slick and soapy hand down my body.

I’m breathing rapidly now. Short quick breaths I can’t control. There’s a deep rumble in his throat. His hand travels lower and lower on my stomach until it’s between my legs. He’s working his thumb over my swollen nub, sending sparks of need, pangs of pleasure, and a wave of self-hatred, surging within my battered body and bruised soul.

“More questions…” his voice a hearty amused rasp. His fingers circle my clit while he continues to rock his hard cock between my legs. The pressure building is so strong it borders on painful.

Tears leak from my eyes. I’m so fucking mad at myself for being turned on. For Smoke being right. I’m so wet. He feels it. There’s no way he can’t feel it.

He leans in close. I’m stone still except for the tremors gripping my body. He licks the tear off my cheek and groans. He dips the tip of his finger inside of me and I tighten around the intrusion. It’s a foreign sensation. Strange. It feels both wrong and right. Pleasurable and painful. “Your tight little pussy is weeping too. I wonder if its tears taste the same.”

I look over my shoulder as he withdraws his finger and sucks it into his mouth. He groans. “Fear or desire. They both taste real fuckin’ good to me.”

He places his hand back between my legs. When I try to squeeze my thighs together to keep him out he parts them with his knee on a grunt and begins circling my clit again. This time harder. Faster.

I’m staying as still as I can, but when I feel something begin to happen inside my body. The sparks he ignited within me are all crashing together. I can’t hold back. My face scrunches as I try to fight the orgasm fighting its way out, but it’s no use. I can’t fight it. It’s too fucking strong. I’m so fucking close.

I arch my back without thinking, pressing my ass against him, begging for more. For what I need to push me over the edge.

Smoke hisses. “Oh, what I could do to this beautiful little pussy.”

The pleasure builds and builds as he strokes me harder. Faster. I’m about to come all over his fingers when the feeling is lost.

I spin around.

Smoke is gone.

I can’t see through the steam so I shut off the spray and wipe the water from my eyes only to see Smoke toweling off in front of the sink on the other side of the bathroom.

The only proof I have of what just happened between us was real is his cock. Erect. Thick. Huge. The purplish swollen head bobs against his abs, jutting out over the top of the towel he wraps around his waist.

“What…what just happened?” I stammer, leaning back against the wall for support.

Smoke steps forward, and when I go to jerk back, he reaches out and pinches my nipple painfully hard. I yelp and leap back, slipping on the tile, falling on my ass, taking the shower curtain down with me.

Smoke rips the curtain off my head and glares down at me with a triumphant grin on his evil beautiful face. “What just happened was called punishment and you got off easy. Next time I’ll split that tight pussy in two with my fucking cock.”

He goes to leave but stops. “You want pain?” he asks. “I’ll give it to you. You want pleasure? Now that’s something you’re gonna have to earn.”

He leaves, slamming the door behind him.

I release a shaky exhale.

I’d hoped the rest of my time with Smoke would be tolerable, but there’s no fucking way that’s going to happen. Not now. Not with my skin crawling with need. I’m losing my mind. About where I am. About what this is all about. About this beautiful horrible evil man.

T.M. Frazier is a USA TODAY bestselling author. She resides in sunny Southwest Florida with her husband and her young daughter.When she’s not writing she loves talking to her readers, country music, reading and traveling. Her debut novel, The Dark Light of Day was published in September of 2013 and when she started writing it she intended for it to be a light beachy romance.Well…it has a beach in it!

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Katee Robert delivers the final installment in her sizzling O’Malleys family series, hailed as “The Godfather meets Romeo & Juliet.” In THE BASTARD’S BARGAIN Dmitri Romanov must use his legendary focus and control to stay one step ahead of everyone else in the ever-shifting power plays of New York City.

What readers are saying:“The Bastard’s Bargain presents a seductive escape and a fulfilling fantasy for that bad boy craving a girl can never outgrow.”—Isha at Book Likes“Keira and Dmitri are everything. What develops between them is raw and carnal and wanton. The way they need each other and the way they connect is beyond sexy. It’s something deep and dark and heartbreakingly beautiful.”—Eva, Goodreads Reviewer

I stumbled into my bedroom, giggling to myself and shaking on too-high heels and too much vodka.

A glance in the huge mirror on my wall reminded me of what I mess I was when I had too much to drink. My silver sequined dress was riding up, revealing a hint of my ass under the shiny fabric. My hair was wild, the dark brown locks a halo around my head, and my brown eyes glowed with excitement. At least my makeup was still in place, the perfect smoky cat-eye enhancing my looks, making me appear demure yet sexy. I’d perfected the art of it, making sure I always had someone eager to buy me a drink.

I sank down on my bed and pulled off the murderous black heels that had been torturing me all night. But it was okay – I’d learned to handle the pain, and when I was dancing, it never mattered anyway.

I lay back and I stared at my ceiling, letting myself think about what my life had become, but only for a short minute.

The key was never to focus on it for too long. I had to forget, and drinking, dancing and partying, was the only way I could do it. If I stopped twirling, stopped tipping back glass after glass, I risked stopping long enough to think about what I was doing. And that was the last thing I wanted to do.

I needed to forget about Posy. She was long gone, and there was no bringing her back.

I pushed myself off the bed shakily, and walked over to my window to let some fresh air in. There was nothing quite like a nice fall breeze to clear my head, and God, I needed some fucking clarity.

I opened the blinds and looked outside, the street below me illuminated with streetlights. It was gone four a.m., and most of the lights in the apartment building next door were off. I lived in a nice neighborhood of townhouses, about three apartments per floor and three floors total. It was a nice place to live, and, of course, I wouldn’t have been able to afford it if it hadn’t been for my parents’ stack of cash in my bank account.

Being a trust-fund baby definitely had its benefits.

My eyes traveled upwards and focused on the only illuminated apartment across the street from me. I could see right into their home, but the minimalistic apartment seemed to be empty, even though it was lit up.

I wobbled on my feet and opened the window wide, enjoying the breeze on my face, slowly bringing me to my senses once again.

A thumping noise interrupted my reverie, and I looked up again, right into the apartment opposite mine. Except now, it wasn’t empty anymore.

Now, there was a dark, impossibly tall figure pressing a naked woman against the window, fucking her savagely, mashing her tits against the window, her mouth opened in an endless gasp as he took her from behind.

Hunter chuckled. It felt like he could see through all of my bullshit. Reaching over to the nightstand, he grabbed his phone and held it out to me before getting up. “Toothpaste in the bathroom still?”

“The little one the hotel sets out.”

“I’ll brush. You type.”

While he was in the bathroom, I mulled over not typing anything into his phone. There was no way I was keeping in touch with a man living three-thousand miles away. A guy like him was the last thing I needed. But then I thought better of just telling him I’d put my number in. He seemed to have figured me out pretty quick. So instead, I typed my name and number, only I changed the last two digits.

And it was a good thing I did, because when Hunter returned from his bathroom trip, the first thing he did was check that I’d entered something. Luckily, he didn’t attempt to call me. Satisfied, he tossed his phone on the bed and nodded.

“Thank you. Now kiss me.”

I could see he wasn’t going to let me leave without this. So, sacrificing to make my plane, I pushed up on my toes and delivered a quick peck to his lips.

Mmm…. Nice and soft.

(And minty fresh.)

“Well…it was nice to meet you.” I turned to dart out the door, but Hunter grabbed my wrist yet again.

“I said kiss me.”

“I did!”

“Kiss me the way you kissed me last night.”

Before I could even attempt to let that sink in, Hunter yanked me against him. One of his large hands cupped the back of my neck, and he squeezed firmly to direct my head where he wanted it. Then, his lips crashed down on mine.

The shock of feeling his mouth against mine quickly dissipated as he licked my lips, encouraging me to open for him. His tongue dipped inside, and he groaned as he tilted my head and deepened the kiss. The vibration of the sound traveled between us and sent a hum through my body. Soft and gentle went out the window after that. He grabbed a fistful of my ass, and I lifted my body up onto his, wrapping my legs around his waist. As he backed us to the wall, a sense of familiarity overcame me. I couldn’t remember the specifics of our previous kiss, but I now knew deep inside what it had felt like.

My cell dropped from my hand so my fingers could tangle in his hair. Yanking on the soft strands, I couldn’t get enough. A moan from deep inside my chest moved through our connected mouths. Hunter pushed harder, his thick erection pressing into the center of my open legs. He rocked as he kissed me, causing a friction through two layers of clothing that was leading me to a place I didn’t think it was possible to go fully dressed.

It felt like he wanted to swallow me whole, and in that moment, I would have let him. My breasts were crushed to his chest, and a heartbeat raged out of control—only I wasn’t sure if it was my own or his. Jesus, where does a man learn to kiss like this?

I was breathless and stunned when our kiss broke. Hunter sucked on my bottom lip, tugging it before releasing my mouth.

His voice was strained. “Change your flight. We’re not done here.”

I swallowed, trying to gain some composure. “I can’t.” My voice was barely a whisper. It was all I could muster.

We met at a wedding—him sitting on the groom’s side, me sitting on the bride’s. Stealing glances at each other throughout the night, there was no denying an intense, mutual attraction.

I caught the bouquet; he caught the garter. Hunter held me tightly while we danced and suggested we explore the chemistry sparking between us. His blunt, dirty mouth should’ve turned me off. But for some crazy reason, it had the opposite effect on me.

We ended up back in my hotel room. The next morning, I headed home to New York leaving him behind in California with the wrong number.

I thought about him often, but after my last relationship, I’d sworn off of charming, cocky, gorgeous-as-sin men. A year later, Hunter and I met again at the birth of our friends’ baby. Our attraction hadn’t dulled one bit. After a whirlwind trip, he demanded a real phone number this time. So I left him with my mother’s—she could scare away any man with her talks of babies and marriage—and flew back home.

I’d thought it was funny, until the following week when he rang the bell at Mom’s house for Sunday night dinner. The crazy, gorgeous man had won over my mother and taken an eight-week assignment in my city. He proposed we spend that time screwing each other out of our systems.

Eight weeks of mind-blowing sex with no strings attached? What did I have to lose?

Vi Keeland is a #1 New York Times and #1 Wall Street Journal Bestselling author. With millions of books sold, her titles have appeared in over eighty Bestseller lists and are currently translated in nineteen languages. She lives in New York with her husband and their three children where she is living out her own happily ever after with the boy she met at age six.

Does the past ever really stay in the past? Find out in Scarlett Cole’s NIKAN REBUILT, the steamy, third standalone in her rockstar romance series, Preload. After years of no contact, Nik and first love Jenny’s connection still blazes between them. Will they have their second chance at love? Or will the weight of their past crush their future together?

Don’t know about you, but we love a great Rockstar romance. And Scarlett Cole knows how to write a great Rockstar romance. We are excited to share with you NIKAN REBUILT, book three in Cole’s Preload series. Follow the tour for reviews, excerpts, and enter to win a $50 Amazon gift card + ebook copies of JORDAN RECLAIMED and ELLIOTT REDEEMED!

From the queen of heart-pounding, sexy, emotional romance Scarlett Cole comes Nikan Rebuilt, the next novel in the Preload series.

Does the past ever really stay in the past?

Nikan can never be complete. He’s got a rock group made up of the family he built for himself, more money than he knows what to do with, and a stream of groupies falling over themselves to date him. But none of them are her. The one regret that still plagues him, still taunts him with what he could have had.

Jenny is a survivor. Now running a group home after overcoming life in a cult lead by her manipulative father and watching her mother drink the poison he fed his followers, she fights to keep the light in the eyes of every boy who walks through her doors. Far from simple young love, Nik taught her to trust, showed her how good life could be. Before he formed the band. Before he became a famous rockstar. Before he destroyed it all.

A chance meeting after years of no contact shows the connection still blazes between them. But will they have their second chance at love? Or will the weight of their past crush their future together?

Nik took the towels out of her hands and placed them on the dryer. “Hey, come here,” he said as he reached for her hands. “Talk to me.”

She wasn’t ready to, not least because she didn’t understand the swirl of feelings sweeping through her. To put into words for Nik exactly how that felt was impossible. “I’m fine, I’m good. I just have a lot to do here now.”

Nik placed his finger under her chin and raised her eyes so she was forced to look at him. “I think we can safely say that lies have no place between us. So, I’ll tell you what I’m thinking, and then you can tell me what you’re thinking. Okay?”

Jenny sighed and nodded. “Okay.”

“I didn’t come here tonight expecting to kiss you like this. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it, but I know I have a lot of work to do to prove myself to you. But seeing you laugh, and seeing you look at me, just for a moment, without the pain I caused you in your eyes . . . Well, I don’t even know how to begin to explain what that felt like to me—except that I didn’t want to be away from you for another moment, and that it felt like a new beginning of sorts. If there’s any doubt in your mind about what that kiss did to me, I’d encourage you to touch me and check, but I think that might be a step too far, given where we are. Now it’s your turn.”

His words made her stomach flip, and despite her best efforts she was filled with a warm and fuzzy feeling. She looked over to the staircase again to check that nobody was within earshot. “We’re coming at this new friendship . . . relationship . . . from two completely different places. I’m mad at myself for letting you get this close to me again. It’s reckless to fall for you all over again and I know it. But when you stand so close to me, I can . . .” Crap. How could she explain that the way the smell of him, and the heat of him, and the proximity of him, and the touch of him took her straight back to that time and place where she wholeheartedly loved him?

The tattoo across my right hip says it all really. A Life Less Ordinary. Inked by the amazingly talented Luke Wessman at the Wooster Street Social Club (a.k.a. New York Ink). Why is it important? Well, it sums up my view on life. That we should all aspire to live a life that is less boring, less predictable. Be bold, and do something amazing. I’ve made some crazy choices. I’ve been a car maker, a consultant, and even a senior executive at a large retailer running strategy. Born in England, spent time in the U.S. and Japan, before ending up in Canada were I met my own, personal hero – all six and a half feet of him. Both of us are scorpios! Yeah, I know! Should have checked the astrological signs earlier, but somehow it works for us. We have two amazing kids, who I either could never part with or could easily be convinced to sell on e-bay.

I’ve wanted to be a writer for a really long time. Check through my office cupboards or my computer and you’ll find half written stories and character descriptions everywhere. Now I’m getting the chance to follow that dream.

“Another amazing series! Scarlett Cole just writes some AMAZING characters, that are raw, real but still fictional enough that they could be your next book boyfriend or real enough that it’s someone you know…I can’t wait for more of the Preload boys.” —TBR Book Blog

NIKAN REBUILT releases next week and we can’t wait for you to read this super-sexy rockstar romance! Pre-order today so you don’t miss this second-chance romance. Plus enter to win a Kindle Fire from Scarlett Cole!

From the queen of heart-pounding, sexy, emotional romance Scarlett Cole comes Nikan Rebuilt, the next novel in the Preloadseries.

Does the past ever really stay in the past?

Nikan can never be complete. He’s got a rock group made up of the family he built for himself, more money than he knows what to do with, and a stream of groupies falling over themselves to date him. But none of them are her. The one regret that still plagues him, still taunts him with what he could have had.

Jenny is a survivor. Now running a group home after overcoming life in a cult lead by her manipulative father and watching her mother drink the poison he fed his followers, she fights to keep the light in the eyes of every boy who walks through her doors. Far from simple young love, Nik taught her to trust, showed her how good life could be. Before he formed the band. Before he became a famous rockstar. Before he destroyed it all.

A chance meeting after years of no contact shows the connection still blazes between them. But will they have their second chance at love? Or will the weight of their past crush their future together?

“Why didn’t you tell anybody where you were?” It was the question that had always burned him. He knew that she didn’t have anybody else in the world who cared that she was okay as much as he did.

Jenny stopped suddenly and turned to face him. “Because I knew you would come and find me, and back then I knew I wasn’t strong enough to keep you away.”

Nik’s heart stopped in his throat. The pain in her voice cut him as deeply as any of his stab wounds had. Unable to help himself, he placed the palm of his hand on her cheek. Her face so looked so soft, so vulnerable and open. As much as he wanted to kiss her lips, he buried the urge. “I’m sorry, Jenny. I can repeat that a thousand ways, and I can show you a thousand times over just how sorry I am. I just . . .” Just what? Threw it all out of the window in a reckless fit of hedonism?

Self-destruction.

He shut the voice off.

SELF-SABOTAGE.

his time it was even louder.

Jenny pulled away. “It’s probably best we leave all that alone. No point picking at a healed scab.”

“I don’t want to pick at a scab or have you hate me,” he said, sadly. “Or worse, I don’t want you to disappear on me again. I just want to get to know you, Jenny.”

“For what purpose, Nik?” Her eyes filled with tears, and he could feel the pain she was in. It mirrored his own. The pain that drove him to keep holding his makeshift family together so that life had some kind of meaning.

All out of words, he did the only thing he’d ever relied on for comfort. He pulled her into his arms and pressed his lips to hers, lips he’d used to watch as she sung, lips he could visualize around his cock as she’d given him her first-ever blow job, lips that he’d missed. They were soft and sweet, just like Jenny. Her fingers slid into his hair, her nails trailing along his scalp in a way that never failed to make him shiver. She remembered this. Their bodies remembered the way they were together. So did his dick, which was pressed up against her.

He knew it was over the moment her hands slid their way to his chest, and his heart broke all over again as she pushed him away.

“See, this is why I can’t be around you, Nik,” she cried. “It’s impossible to resist you. And we don’t belong together anymore.”

Nik shook his head. “Don’t do this, Jenny. We deserve a second chance to see what we’ve got. We are perfect together.”

“Were, Nik. We were perfect together. Don’t you see? It’s all past tense.” Jenny turned and hurried down the street.

“Jenny. Wait.” He jogged to catch up with her. “There was nothing past tense about that kiss, or the way you turn me on as much as you always did. There is nothing past tense about the way the sun catches your hair and turns it the color of a cornfield in fall. And I know you hate star references but there is nothing past tense about the way your fucking eyes light up your face like the Big Dipper, lights up the night-fucking-sky” he said. “I don’t want what we were to be the sum total of everything we ever add up to.”

The tattoo across my right hip says it all really. A Life Less Ordinary. Inked by the amazingly talented Luke Wessman at the Wooster Street Social Club (a.k.a. New York Ink). Why is it important? Well, it sums up my view on life. That we should all aspire to live a life that is less boring, less predictable. Be bold, and do something amazing. I’ve made some crazy choices. I’ve been a car maker, a consultant, and even a senior executive at a large retailer running strategy. Born in England, spent time in the U.S. and Japan, before ending up in Canada were I met my own, personal hero – all six and a half feet of him. Both of us are scorpios! Yeah, I know! Should have checked the astrological signs earlier, but somehow it works for us. We have two amazing kids, who I either could never part with or could easily be convinced to sell on e-bay.

I’ve wanted to be a writer for a really long time. Check through my office cupboards or my computer and you’ll find half written stories and character descriptions everywhere. Now I’m getting the chance to follow that dream.

Walking towards the stairs, I’m met in the hallway by none other than Rude Hottie himself—who has somehow become even more gorgeous since the last time I saw him.

Today he is wearing a blue plaid flannel shirt under his open jacket, which makes his eyes even brighter than I remember them being. His short hair is messy from sleep, but he smiles, wide-awake and says cheerily, “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” I say, returning his smile. How could I not, when one look from him has me feeling completely jittery? Must be caffeine withdrawals since I haven’t had my coffee yet this morning. It’s the only sane explanation!

“Ladies first,” he says, indicating that I should descend the stairs in front of him.

I briefly wonder if it’s a ploy to be able to check out my ass on the way down.

I wish!

“Tom,” comes his odd announcement from behind me, which I’m guessing is his name.

Turning, I reply, “June,” and I am greeted by a grin that has me stumbling slightly and my body reacting like it has never done before. Clearly I’m still suffering from jetlag.

When we reach the doorway leading into the dinning room, he’s next to me. Stepping even closer, he whispers, “Mistletoe,” into my ear, and points to the weed hanging above us.

I’m too absorbed with how delicious he smells, like soap and sleepy warmth blended in a perfect masculine scent, to realize the meaning of what he’s saying.

Apparently Rude Hottie—no, Tom—is actually somewhat of a gentleman; although he could’ve completely ignored the tradition, he presses a gentle kiss on my cheek.

I come back to myself just as he begins to pull away. Turning my head, I catch his smiling lips with mine in an all too quick kiss.

Rene Webb, a former Catholic schoolgirl and child of the ‘80’s, is a recovering Soap Opera addict who grew up watching General Hospital. She became weary with the relentless drama and sought out stories with happy endings that lasted. Now, Rene is an contemporary romance author, where there is always a happily-ever-after!

A graduate of The George Washington University in Washington DC, 05’, with a BA in History. Rene went on to get her Masters in Film Studies, 09’, from Chapman University, Orange CA.

She founded and runs the book blog Lit. 4 Ladies (a joint venture with her sister) and has self-published both a novella and full-length contemporary romance novel.

Authors such as Jane Austen, Kristen Ashley, Cherise Sinclair, Sierra Cartwright, Donna Fletcher, Jennifer Ashley, and Bianca Giovanni have inspired her. They all create strong female characters, swoon-worthy men, and stories that leave their readers with the hope that you, too, will find your own H.E.A.!

Rene also enjoys reading, baking, seeing movies, going to museums, and spending time with her friends and family.